Time Immemorial
by EmeraldEyedDreamer
Summary: Note Rating Change from M to T. Hermione, a potioneer for the Ministry is working to create a innovative potion. Her work forces her to cross paths with Draco. An accident sends them to the past where they discover memory and history don't always match.
1. Memoria Desiderium

**DISCLAIMER: The HP world belongs to J. K. Rowling. I have only contributed a few characters, items, places, ideas, and plot points to what is otherwise completely the property of J. K. Rowling. **

** This story is not epilogue-compliant.**

**UPDATE: Hey guys, I'm reposting this story, so even if you have read the chapters I had previously, I suggest rereading as I have made some minor, albeit important changes.**

**Chapter One – Memoria Desiderium**

Hermione Granger was frantic, almost to the point of ripping out clumps of her frazzled, brown curls. In a mere hour and a half, she would be in a dark underground meeting room, deep in the recesses of the Ministry of Magic, demonstrating her previously untested Memory Regeneration potion to several Ministry officials and at least two dozen marketing and patent corporations.

When Hermione first pitched her potion the previous month she was given a nearly impossible deadline of three weeks. It took almost a week and a half to make the potion itself, and if something were to go wrong she would have very little time to start again.

Although Hermione had long been studying different possibilities of creating a potion that could aid in the retrieval of 'Obliviated' memories, she knew that, having not created the potion before, anything was liable to go wrong, and most likely would. In addition, Hermione would be unable to test her product beforehand, and if it didn't work, she could lose a great deal more than a sale. While it was not the sale she was after, she would not be able to help the numerous patients in the Memory-Loss ward in St. Mungos if no marketing rep would look twice at her after a failure.

To top it all off, Hermione still hadn't finished the potion. Two weeks before, just as she started the last leg of the potion-making process, one of Hermione's best friends, Ron Weasley, had barged in on her to tell her he had finally asked his then-girlfriend, Parvati Patil, to marry him. The sudden interruption startled Hermione and she spilled an extra half ounce of shredded fluxweed into the simmering potion. The superfluous ingredient initiated a chain reaction that resulted in the neon orange concoction erupting all over her tidy apartment.

Currently, Hermione was sitting on the living room floor, her legs folded beneath her, in front of a low table and Bunsen burner-like contraption, upon which sat the medium pewter cauldron that held her invention. The cauldron's contents gurgled in a lively way as she waited for the appropriate moment to add the final ingredient: a pair of beetle eyes. They had to be added one at a time as she stirred the peach-colored potion counter-clockwise at a slow, careful pace.

_Plop _went the first eye. She quickly looked up at her wall clock. She would have to stir for three and a half minutes before adding the second eye. As she stirred, her arm starting to ache from the awkward position, there was a small tap at the door to the apartment she shared with her best girl-friend, Ginny Weasley.

"Open the door QUIETLY, do NOT trip or make ANY sudden movements or I will hex you where you stand." Hermione said forcefully through clenched teeth, clearly on edge, the memory of the explosion on her mind. Her eyes were boring holes into the clock. One minute left.

"Way to make me feel welcome, Hermione." Harry chuckled as he did as he was ordered, pushing open the door, inch by inch, until he could silently slip in. He quietly crept around Hermione and the small table she had placed in one corner of the living room of the apartment. He knew better than to speak while she was so concentrated on a potion. The recent memory of Ron apparating to their own apartment, his bright red ears the size of muggle cricket balls and the rest of him plagued by the affects of a well-aimed bat-bogey hex lingered on his mind as he watched her add the second beetle eye to the potion and resume her vigilant watch on the ticking clock over his head.

As the moments ticked by, Harry watched his best friend in quiet amusement. While they were no longer in school, Hermione was still as determined as ever to get everything perfect, _just right_, from the potions she worked on at the ministry to the weekly shopping list she and Ginny had hanging on their muggle refrigerator. As Harry continued to wait for Hermione to finish, he watched his friend with a sort of familial pride. Hermione was still the brightest witch he had ever met. Head-strong and determined, she excelled in almost every endeavor she attempted. Despite her fervent determination and exceedingly bright nature, however, Hermione was not without weakness. Many people mistakenly thought that every problem she tackled was turned over easily into a successful venture, but Harry, Ron, and Ginny knew differently. As clever and resourceful as Hermione was, some obstacles she faced, flying and dating, to name a few, were still insurmountable.

Harry frowned at the thought of Hermione being alone for the rest of her life. As he pondered this, the woman in question finally sat back on her heels with a contented sigh, wiping the nervous sweat that had beaded on her brow as an accomplished smile pulled at her lips. She and Harry watched the bubbling potion as it faded from peach to a banana-yellow color. Hermione grinned with pride. It turned out just as she wanted. She looked at Harry, beaming, and he returned the smile.

"Is it safe to breathe yet?" Harry joked as he and Hermione both stood up from the little table. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him in response to his jibe.

"Very funny, Harry. I just wanted to take proper precaution. Besides, we both know that you attract more trouble than necessary."

Harry laughed heartily at that and nodded his head knowingly. "True. True. So I take it that the potion is finally ready to be presented at the demonstra-"

Before he could finish, Hermione let out a loud gasp and whipped her gaze toward the clock. She had a little less than an hour to get ready, allow the potion to cool, and get to the Ministry before the hearing. Being late would be almost as bad as outright failing. "Oh my god! Harry! Could you please watch the potion while I go get ready? The meeting is at three and I'm going to be late if I don't hurry!" Hermione glanced at the simmering potion, and when she was satisfied that it hadn't mysteriously tipped over or disappeared, she turned and bolted down the short hallway leading from the living room to the bedrooms and bathrooms before Harry could even agree.

Harry laughed at her retreating back and shoved his hands in the pockets of the black slacks he wore. He glanced down at the bright yellow potion as it gulped and gurgled in the cauldron. What, exactly, was he supposed to be watching for? He highly doubted that anyone was going to walk in and steal the potion and Harry knew that Ron was safe on a date with Luna, so he couldn't come in and wreak havoc on Hermione's work. As Harry baffled over the thought, he heard Hermione's bedroom door fly open. Harry turned just in time to see her hopping from her room toward the bathroom, one foot bare and the other up as she tried to wrench off her trainer while it was still tied tightly.

"Hermione?"

She snapped her neck toward the sound of his voice, a wild, frantic look in her eyes. "What Harry?"

Harry stepped back, surprised, albeit highly amused. "When is Ginny getting off work? We're supposed to be going out for a late lunch."

"She should be home before I leave. Now, please, Harry, I need to get ready!" She looked at him pleadingly, wobbling slightly, her shoed foot still in hand.

Harry motioned for her to go, laughter lighting up his bright green eyes as he watched her duck into the bathroom, the door slamming shut. Hearing the shower turn on, Harry walked over to a small, scarlet armchair with gold trim and sat down. He ran his hand through his wild, inky-black hair and let himself practically melt into the armchair. He had had a long day at work and relaxing was just what the healer ordered.

For Hermione, on the other hand, relaxation was the furthest thing from her mind and the first thing she needed. She knew that keeping a level head was key, but she couldn't help but imagine every possible problem that could go wrong. Her biggest worry was that the potion wouldn't work, or worse, kill the tester.

Hermione raised her face toward the showerhead and tried to will the water to wash her fears and stress away. It worked, somewhat, and she resumed getting herself cleaned up from an afternoon of potion preparation, including washing her wild locks. After several moments, she jumped out of the shower and wrapped a snow-white towel around her tanned body. She picked up her wand from the stack of clothes that sat on the toilet seat, and pointed it at the steam-fogged mirror, clearing it so she could see her reflection. Then she dried her hair with her wand and performed a spell that Lavender Brown, who had become a magical beautician at a wizard's day spa, had taught her when she had visited a month before with Ginny. The spell calmed her hair somewhat and gave it a shiny, healthy look. Satisfied, Hermione finished getting ready at top speed.

Moments later, she walked out wearing her best business robes over a crisp, white blouse and grey slacks. She slipped on the pair of black heels she had grabbed from her closet. They were new and pinched her toes, but they would serve their purpose. Hermione skittered back into her room and over to the vanity table that had been magically fitted into her cramped room.  
As Hermione applied a thin coat of nude gloss, she smiled at herself in the mirror.  
"Now. All I have to do is finish waiting for it to turn bright yellow and then I can pour i-" At that moment, Harry quietly plodded into her room.

"Erm, Hermione? So the potion isn't supposed to be turning the color of licorice?"

Hermione dropped the tube of gloss she had been using and slowly turned her head in horror. Grabbing her wand, she jumped up and ran over to the door. Harry was doubled over, laughing at her horrified reaction.

"I'm sorry…Hermione…couldn't help it. Your reaction was priceless."

Mortified, Hermione punched Harry in the arm as hard as she could.

"That is not funny, Harry James Potter!" This amused him even more and his laughter tripled. Hermione glanced at the sterling silver watch she had put on moments before and groaned. "I'm going to be late! This is your fault!" She poked his chest half-heartedly. "I'll deal with you when I get back from this inevitable failure."

Hermione raced down the hall and into the kitchen. She walked over to the cabinet where she kept most of her potion ingredients and flasks and grabbed three fresh bottles. Uncorking them, she walked back to her potion and found, thankfully, that it was indeed still a cheery yellow.

At that moment, Ginny walked in, and Harry, who had returned to the living room, pulled her into his arms for a deep kiss. Hermione, aware of this but pointedly ignoring it, just waved at Ginny and straightened up, her potion bottles, wand, and a small purse in hand.

"Sorry, Gin. I've gotta run. Have fun on your date!" She gave Harry a friendly peck on the cheek and a quick, teasing glare and hugged Ginny before racing out the door, her robes flapping wildly behind her.

Harry chuckled and the front door shut with a snap. Ginny stood on her toes to give him another kiss. "What's so funny?"

"Remember how Ron looked after he made Hermione's potion blow up?" Ginny nodded, grinning at the memory. She had been there when Hermione had started throwing hexes and had been the only reason Ron still had all of his extremities.

"Well, you very nearly had to go out in public with his twin. She didn't find it funny when I tricked her into thinking her potion had turned for the worst." Harry chuckled as Ginny smacked him on the shoulder. Soon after, they left. Elsewhere, Hermione was panicking as she forced her way through the crowded atrium of the Ministry of Magic. She was going to be _so_ late.


	2. Lockhart Loquacious

**A/N: The first time I posted this story, one of the grievances was that the story moved at a pretty slow place…so…I combined the original chapter two with what I wrote up for chapter three to help move the story along a little.**

**DISCLAIMER: The HP world belongs to J. K. Rowling. I have only contributed a few characters, items, places, ideas, and plot-points to what is otherwise completely the property of J. K. Rowling. **

**Chapter Two - Lockhart Loquacious **

Just as Hermione apparated into the large atrium of the Ministry of Magic, a large crowd of witches and wizards poured out of the Floo-Fireplaces across from the Apparation points. Hermione groaned and once more checked her watch before holding the bottles of bubbling yellow potion close to her body for protection and heaving herself into the dense throng of people. She had eight minutes. Hermione began to mutter calming thoughts to herself

"It's okay Hermione. Just breathe. You're going to make it. You're going to be right on ti-"

"Hermione!"

Hermione stopped and closed her eyes in frustration. When she opened them again, Harold _Scrivener_, her young assistant secretary, was standing before her, looking quite disheveled, his short ginger hair slightly singed in places.

"Harold, I'm sorry, I can't talk. I have my meeting in seven min-"  
"I know Hermione, but there is an emergency in the brewing chamber…there, uh, seems to have been an explosion that resulted in a chain of, well, several more explosions of…well…a few potions." Hermione gasped and her hand flew to her face. Her shoulders slumped in defeat.

"What was lost, Harold?"

"Well, you see, because it is Tuesday, our busiest day for constructing new po-"

"Harold. What. Was. Lost?"

"Six copper cauldrons, fifty bottles of dittany, ten bicorn horns, three shrivelfigs, a jar of doxy eggs, and…" Harold trailed off, taking a step back.

"And…?"

"Our entire stock of Veritaserum as well as half of our supply of Wolfsbane potion...yeah"

Hermione whimpered.

"The Wolfsbane was supposed to be delivered today to St. Mungo's to help with the outbreak of werewolf attacks and Harry's department was meant to receive three-fourths of the Veritaserum stock tomorrow morning! What are we going to do?!"

"I don't know. I have notified Healer Profit at St. Mungo's and Harry's assistant Arvin Wheeler of the delay."

Hermione nodded and took a deep, shaky breath, her eyes closed. After a second realization struck and her eyes snapped open.

"Who caused it, Harold?"

"Err, what, Hermione? Well, um, Annette Shadrach had to be removed to St. Mungo's. She was working at one of the cauldrons when it explode-"

"Who caused the accident, Harold?"

Harold's face fell and Hermione knew the answer before the words left his mouth.

"It was Meriwether Silverston, Hermione."

"Tell her to go to my office and wait for me there. I'm sorry Harold, I know she's your fiancée, but this is the third accident she has caused this month. I can't have her blowing everything up. We've already had to rush-deliver a new batch of skele-gro after she accidentally put scorpion stingers in all the potions. Now, I _have _to go, Harold. I've only got -"

"Three minutes exactly" Harold interjected, stepping aside.

"Bugger it all to hell!" Hermione sprinted forward, knocking a surprised elderly wizard to the side. "Have her in my office, Harold!"

Harold nodded glumly before turning and walking away.

Hermione raced toward the opening doors of one of the Ministry's golden elevators. Hermione flung herself into the nearly-empty elevator, causing the trio of magenta-robed witches that were stepping out to condemn everything from her "pretty little head" to her all of her "gurdiroot gardens."

Hermione frantically jammed the button to go down. A cold voice enveloped the elevator as the doors clanged shut.

"Not so rough, please," the voice chided before returning to the usual cool, soothing tone. "Going down."

"Yes, thank you," Hermione replied tartly, rolling her eyes. She checked her watch and tapped her foot loudly. "C'mon! Two minutes!"

"Level Nine. Department of Mysteries."

"Finally!" Hermione gasped.

"Patience is a virtue, Virtue is a grace; Both put together, make a very pretty face," the elevator chimed as the elevator doors clanked and clashed open. Hermione glared over her shoulder as she bolted out the door. She fled down the corridor, past the door to the Department of Mysteries, toward the stairs that would take her the rest of the way down toward the courtroom where her demonstration was to take place...if it still took place. One minute. The stairwell door crashed open loudly as Hermione sped through it. She all but leapt down the stairs, taking four steps at a time, spiraling downward until she reached Level Ten. Thirty seconds. Her robes flying wildly behind her and her potion bottles clinking in her hands, Hermione tore down the dank, cold corridor until she reached Courtroom Five. She burst through door. "You're late, Miss Granger," echoed the loud, raspy voice of Ministry official Candor Briggs. He watched her sternly as she meekly walked toward the center of the large room, where a table and a chair had been set up for her demonstration. "Yes, yes. I'm sorry. My assistant found me as I was coming down to tell me of a slight incident in the brewing chambers and I-" "Your demonstration, Miss Granger? We don't have all day." Hermione tried not to allow the glaring anger and mortification she felt to show on her face as she nodded and set down her three bottles of her potion. Hermione heard a derisive cough come from the back of the group of witches and wizards that she now noticed numbered in the high thirties. Gulping hard, she squinted to see the origin of the amused snicker. Draco Malfoy. _What the hell is he doing here?! Came expecting me to fail, no less._ She harrumphed disdainfully. _We'll see._ Hermione shot a scathing glare in Malfoy's direction. She then moved behind the demonstration table that held her three bottles of potion. "Miss Granger?" A kind-faced woman spoke this time. She had long red hair, large horned-rim glasses, and a pair of robin's egg blue robes. She smiled warmly at Hermione. "What does your potion do?" "Yes, what does it _do_, _Miss Granger?_" Candor Briggs's impatience was not hidden. "Candor! Why don't you actually give her a chance to speak, please," the red-haired woman chastised him.

Hermione nodded nervously and stabilized herself on the table. She hated public speaking.

"Um, yes. The potion I will be showing is of my…my own...making…" Hermione trailed off, trying to figure out what to say next.

"Obviously, otherwise there would be no need for a Potion Induction Patent Review," Candor Briggs sneered at Hermione. He rolled his eyes and quite dramatically, propped his chin on his hand in boredom. Then, for just a moment, it seemed as if his eyes dulled, before returning to their cruel, shining, steel color. "I'm sorry, Miss Granger, please continue."

Hermione did a double take before clearing her throat and continuing. "Ah, yes. Well, as I was saying, I made this potion to help those who have lost their memories by way of Obliviation. I call it 'Memoria Desiderium.'"

Several witches and wizards and the audience began whispering amongst themselves and others leaned forward in interest.

"Miss Granger, you do realize that many witches and wizards have endeavored to create the very same potion. Many of them twice your age and much more experienced. Albus Dumbledore himself attempted to conduct a full study of the properties of many plants and herbs that could possibly construct such a needed potion. What makes you think your work will surpass theirs?" The question from a wiry, grey-haired wizard sitting in the back row was not cruel or taunting, merely curious. The wizard, like many of his peers, had an interested glint in his eye.

"Yes, sir, I am aware of the attempts made before me. I am also very aware of Professor Dumbledore's research, having perused his notes myself."

"How did you come by those notes? I do not think he would have left them to a then-student when he died."

"He did not. He left them to Professor McGonagall as his true successor as Hogwarts Headmistress. When I went to Hogwarts to seek her guidance, as well as that of my friend Professor Longbottom of the Herbology Department and Professor Wheliker of the Potions Department, she shared with me Professor Dumbledore's notes on the subject."

The grey-haired wizard nodded thoughtfully and sat back in his seat. "I see. Please, continue."

Hermione nodded and stepped around the table slowly, but with purpose.

"What Professor Dumbledore did not realize was that, in order to create a potion that could reverse the permanent effects of Obliviation, the potioneer must _reverse_ the direction in which they stirred the potion. A simple fix really."

Malfoy snorted and decided it was time to speak. "Really Granger? That's _all_ it took? Just stir the potion the other way."

Hermione smiled. "Well, that, _Mr. _Malfoy, and the inclusion of a rare Mediterranean ingredient: Italian Emerald-Wood bark. In local Italian hamlets, it is known for its restorative properties."

"And how did you come by this 'rare Mediterranean ingredient?' Decided to take an afternoon trip to Italy, stroll down the beach and scrape bark off trees, did you Granger?"

Hermione gritted her teeth for a moment, trying to keep herself from hexing Malfoy's smirk of his pallid, rat face.

"No, _Mr. Malfoy_, I did not. Being Head of the Potion-making Department does have its benefits. Earlier this year, I sent one of the wizards in my department to the continent to gather some herbs that were lesser-known. Things used by those who practice potion-making in the smaller villages. This particular ingredient was collected by and sold to my representative by an Italian Healer named Adolfo Conti. He boasted of its healing properties. When my representative returned with the ingredients, I began to do some research on the bark and several of the other ingredients. I sent owls to Healers and Potioneers alike, asking of their experience with and opinions of these ingredients. What I learned was shocking. The bark was most-often used to cure short-term memory amnesia among patients, with a very high success rate. I decided to include it in my personal work with the Memoria Desiderium."

There was more chatter and noises of approval amongst the counsel.

"Fascinating, Miss Granger. Very good work. Now, may we see whether or not the potion is a success?"

Hermione dipped her head in a slight nod and smiled.

"Of course. I have already made arrangements with St. Mungo's to send over a patient afflicted with Obliviation. He or she will be accompanied by a certified Healer with papers proving he is a real patient and not an actor."

There was a loud resounding knock at the chamber door.

"That will be them. One moment."

Hermione practically floated toward the door. Other than Malfoy's attempts at disconcerting her and Candor Briggs initial behavior, everything was going her way. Now it was time for Hermione to really show them.

When Hermione reached the door, she heaved it open, with a little trouble, and poked her head out. She gasped.

"-Ah yes. Here we go. Excuse me Miss. Can you tell me why someone as devilishly good-looking as I happen to be here? Such an awful, cold, and tasteless place. It isn't because I was handing out autographs again, was it? I can prove it is indeed my own handwriting. Shall I give you an autograph as proof? I'm apparently quite famous, you know."

The white-toothed grin of Gilderoy Lockhart bore at Hermione in attempts to woo her.

"Oh. Ah. I- uh…I-." Hermione stammered, nonplussed.

"Miss Granger. This is the patient that the hospital voted to be your test subject for the potion demonstration." Hermione turned her head at the sound of the voice and noticed a salt-and-pepper-haired, tight-lipped woman staring at her sternly. Professor McGonagall.

"Professor! What are you doing here? I thought they were sending a Healer along with the subject's- er, Mr. Lockhart's records?"

Professor McGonagall smiled.

"Ah yes. That had been the plan. However, I took the job upon myself because I felt that my support was needed as it was I that urged you to continue your research." Professor McGonagall gave another rare smile and lowered her voice so Lockhart, who was trying to look at his reflection in a suit of armor by the door, couldn't hear.

"Well, that, and apparently, none of the Healers wanted to take the assignment. Mr. Lockhart here seems to have gotten himself into a spot of trouble. Tried to give an autograph to an interning Healer in a place he should not have been signing." Professor McGonagall pursed her lips and rolled her eyes.

"Ah yes," reminisced Lockhart, who had appeared by Professor McGonagall's shoulder at that moment. "I remember that. Such a nice…Healer, you say? What was her name? Brigette? Lovely girl." Lockhart chuckled to himself and ran a hand through his blond hair. He had a receding hairline that had not been there when Hermione saw him in her fifth year. His eyes were also not the bright blue they once had been, and Lockhart had obviously put on a fair amount of weight during his interim at St. Mungo's.

"Patricia." Professor McGonagall corrected sternly before returning her attention to Hermione. "Either way, Miss Granger, I am here in their stead. Here are the papers. Go back into the chamber and brief them before I bring him in." Professor McGonagall handed a thick rolled sheaf of parchment to Hermione who nodded, smiled, and ducked back into the chamber.

"My apologies. It seems as if a Healer was not available to present our subject. Instead, Professor McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts, has offered her presence and has arrived with our subject and his records." She walked forward and handed the parchment to Candor Briggs. He unfurled Lockhart's records and looked at it in surprise.

"Gilderoy Lockhart?!" Whispers erupted off the chamber walls and several witches shifted to the edge of their seats, looking toward the chamber door in excitement. Hermione heard a loud laugh echo from Malfoy as he nearly doubled over, clutching his side. "You've got to be joking" he wheezed out to the surly wizard that sat next to him.

"Yes, sir. Mr. Gilderoy Lockhart." She returned to the table. "As you all know, Mr. Lockhart suffered from an Obliviation Spell gone awry," several witches in the chamber nodded solemnly. One witch sitting in the back row wearing absurd bubblegum pink robes even drew out a handkerchief and blew her nose loudly. Hermione had to force herself not to roll her eyes. "What you do not know is that Mr. Lockhart was the castor of said spell." The subsequent intake of breath was deafening in the otherwise quiet chamber. "Yes. The intended targets were Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. The location of the incident was in the Chamber of Secrets. It was during our second year at Hogwarts." There was a collective gasp.

"Of course. He wanted to relieve those boys of the trauma they had surely witnessed. He was trying to protect them. How heroic." It was the witch in the absurdly pink robes that spoke, her grey curls bouncing as she nodded reverently. Hermione stared at her in complete shock. Malfoy snorted in amusement.

"Hardly. He was trying to wipe their memories because they had discovered that all the adventures he described in his books were in fact the adventures of other witches and wizards. He would interview them and then Obliviate them to make them forget that they had ever done anything noteworthy and take the credit for himself. He tried to make Harry and Ron forget as well, but, in a cowardly move, he stole Ron's wand that was malfunctioning and the spell backfired."

"Codswallop! I can't believe it! I just can't!" the same witch exclaimed in denial. Others, however, seemed to believe Hermione.

"Well, then, after this, I hereby move to submit him for questioning with Veriteserum….once my staff has created more."

There was silence in the chamber. Hermione cleared her throat nervously.

"What is this? It looks like a school exam. How did this get in here?" Briggs held up a sheet of parchment and waved it toward Hermione. She took it and looked at the name on the parchment. It was her own.

"This is mine. It was a quiz Lockhart gave on the first day that same year he was a professor at Hogwarts. He wanted to verify who had read his books and who hadn't."

"Well, it seems you received top marks. Er…bravo?"

Hermione blushed. "Ah, yes. Professor McGonagall probably brought it to provide us with questions to ask Mr. Lockhart to verify the return of his memory. For instance…erm….Mr. Briggs, what, according to that exam, was Mr. Lockhart's favorite color?"

Briggs perused Hermione's exam through squinted eyes. "Lilac, it would seem."

"Correct. And, what did Mr. Lockhart say would be his ideal birthday gift? It's the last question, if I remember correctly." Hermione blushed at this.

Briggs grunted and leafed through the three sheets of paper that made up Lockhart's "little quiz."

"That'll be 'harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples.'"

"Correct. And, finally, his secret ambition, according to this quiz?"

"Ridding the world of evil and marketing his own range of…hair-care products? This man is quite absurd. To think my wife actually spent so much gold on his books." Briggs shook his head. "Alright Miss Granger, you've made your point. Send him in and administer the potion."

Hermione, still pink, nodded and turned on her heel. She walked to the door with purpose, heaved it open and beckoned Professor McGonagall and Lockhart into the chamber.

Professor McGonagall escorted Lockhart to the chair by the table.

"Sit here."

Professor McGonagall's stern presence caused Lockhart to look down sheepishly and he sat without a word.

Hermione walked around the table and picked up one of her bottles of the banana-yellow potion. She unstoppered it and walked over to Lockhart. The Memoria Desiderium fizzed slightly then subsided.

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione, midway through handing the bottle to Professor McGonagall, stopped and looked up at the witch in the bubblegum pink robes.

"Yes?"

"For the record of the court would Mr. Lockhart's escort, Professor McGonagall, state her name and status and vouch that Mr. Lockhart is indeed under the heretofore mentioned permanent influence of an Obliviation spell?"

Hermione looked at Professor McGonagall questionably.

Professor McGonagall turned toward the patent committee and bowed shortly.

"I, Professor Minerva McGongall, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, do hereby submit myself as the escort of the test subject, Gilderoy Lockhart. I vouch and swear to this court of the current status of Mr. Lockhart as under the _heretofore mentioned influence_ of an Obliviation spell."

The witch nodded and began to scribble Professor McGonagall's words onto a length of parchment.

Hermione handed Professor McGonagall the potion. She stood back, crossed her arms, and bit her lips nervously.

Lockhart stared at Hermione, the court witnesses, and then the potion in Professor McGonagall's hand.

"You really expect me to drink that?" He chuckled. "Oh, how delightfully humorous this all is. Why I-"

"Open." Lockhart immediately dropped his jaw at Professor McGonagall's steeled tone.

Professor McGonagall touched the lip of the bottle to Lockhart's mouth and paused for a second before tipping it and pouring the whole potion down his throat. He coughed and sputtered and clutched at his neck for a moment. His face turned a bright pink and Hermione, along with some of the other witches present gasped in horror. Briggs stood up.

Lockhart let out a loud cough and shook his head. He gave a weak grin to the court and Hermione released the breath she had been holding.

"Positively awful. Tasted like spoiled cabbage and milk. Disgusting. I hope it doesn't color my teeth. That would be absolutely aw-"

Lockhart's eyes widened and he wheezed. He slowly turned his eyes toward Professor McGonagall and gasped.

"P-P-Professor McGonagall. How lovely to see you. You're looking quite…stern, today."

Hermione gasped and smiled. It had worked!

Lockhart looked around and saw he was being watched carefully by a courtroom full of witches and wizards.

"Oh. Oh dear." His eyes darted toward Hermione and understanding dawned. "I see. Professor McGonagall, I don't know what these children have told you but I was simply a hostage down in the Chamber of Secrets. Harry Potter, in an act of less-than heroism, coerced his ginger friend, Rupert…Rodney…the slow one, into pushing me into the Chamber with the intent of feeding me as bait to the great monster that it held. Whatever silly stories they told you of Obliviation spells and lies and all such rut is entirely false. Being the forgiving and genteel man that I am, however, I recommend that-"

"Hold your tongue, Mr. Lockhart!"

Lockhart immediately snapped his mouth closed, slightly raising his hand to his mouth, before fisting it in his lap.

Professor McGonagall rolled her eyes and turned away from the chided Lockhart and faced the court. "Ask your questions."

Candor Briggs looked down at Lockhart in dubious amazement. "Err, right. Mr. Lockhart? I have just a few questions for you."

Lockhart stared up at Briggs in fear; he nodded.

"Mr. Lockart…what is your favorite color?"

Lockhart looked shocked for a moment before grinning. "I see. It's a press conference! I did not realize I had let slip that I was releasing a new book soon! Ah, my adoring fans must have broken into my chamber. Again. Bless them. Tsk tsk. Naughty scamps." He chuckled. "Lilac, sir, is the answer to your question. Although I do believe lavender goes better with my eyes. We'll experiment for my post-conference photo shoot, shall we?"

A loud murmur echoed throughout the chamber. Several witches and wizards clapped and Hermione noticed that even Malfoy looked amazed, albeit thoroughly amused.

Briggs, although obviously surprised and impressed, kept his formality and raised Hermione's quiz to look for another question.

"Mr. Lockhart, erm…."

"Mr. Lockhart!" The witch in the pink robes stood up, blushing slightly. She gave Lockhart a shy smile, who returned a toothy grin of his own.

"Yes?" The witch's cheeks flushed a deeper scarlet, if possible.

"Mr. Lockhart, how many times was it that you won Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award? Three times?" Hermione noticed the intentional change.

Lockhart pressed his lips together. "Five times, dearest. It was five. Not three. Five. I'm hoping to be nominated for a sixth year, though, I daresay I have nothing to worry about." He winked cheekily at the witch, who sat, blushing, and began to scribble furiously onto the parchment.

"It worked. It actually worked," a young short-haired witch in the front row declared.

More murmurs broke out and the red-haired witch got to her feet.

"Miss Granger. It would seem as if your potion worked. It is my honor to fully notarize the patenting of your Memoria Desiderium potion. I'm sure each and every marketer here would love to represent your potion. I-" But Hermione never got to hear the rest.

Lockhart had begun to cough and sputter again. He slid out of his chair and to the chamber floor, clutching his throat. He was choking.

Professor McGonagall and Hermione stared in shock at the plum face of the blonde-haired wizard.

"He's been poisoned! Someone do something!" Lockhart had begun to jerk around violently on the floor.

Professor McGonagall pulled her wand out from her robes and pointed the tip at the now-empty bottle in her hand. "Aguamenti!"

The bottle filled with clear water. She bent down by Lockhart, turned up his chin, and forced him to swallow every drop. She had to refill the bottle twice more before his paroxysms ceased. There was a moment of still silence before he looked up, his once-coiffed hair now askew and his robes disheveled.

"Where am I? What is going on? And why in the name of Merlin am I on this filthy floor?"


	3. A Deal With the Devil

**DISCLAIMER: The HP world belongs to J. K. Rowling. I have only contributed a few characters, items, places, ideas, and plot-points to what is otherwise completely the property of J. K. Rowling. **

**Chapter Three – A Deal With the Devil (or, Of Pride and Prejudice)**

Hermione was sitting in the chair that Lockhart had occupied until the incident just ten minutes before. She stared straight ahead, her eyes were unfocused and glazed over. What happened? What had gone wrong? From the moment Lockhart began to question his whereabouts, it became obvious that the effects from Hermione's potion had worn off, leaving Lockhart just as Oblivious as before. The chaotic roar of panic had subsided, and although nobody really believed Hermione Granger was actually trying to murder Lockhart, it was obvious there was disappointment in her failed attempt. All the witches and wizards stood and began to file out of the chamber.

As they passed, several witches and wizards muttered their condolences or eyed her in a keen interest, perhaps wondering if she would try again. Even Malfoy seemed somewhat impressed with her work, despite its nearly disastrous end. However, his old prejudice shined through this almost respectful façade and he muttered "too bad Granger" as he passed. After he exited the chamber, a male healer arrived to escort Lockhart to St. Mungo's for observation. As the two left, Lockhart regaled the healer with his "near-death" experience, claiming "I must be more famous than I thought, if people are trying to kill me!"

"I'm sorry, Miss Granger. It really seemed that your potion had worked. It was a fair better attempt than some of your predecessors. Better luck next time, perhaps?" Candor Briggs gave Hermione a curt but cordial nod and walked out of the chamber. He was the last of the court witnesses to leave. Now only Hermione and Professor McGonagall remained in the cold, grey chamber.

"Miss Granger-"

"I know professor. I made a mistake. And it will probably cost me any chance of marketing my product if I ever get it right. And I should have done more research or cross-referenced its intended result versus its actual result. And I-"

"Miss Granger! An apology is not necessary. Nobody was hurt…unfortunately…and today's demonstration certainly did no harm to your career. It merely conveyed that you are well on your way to discovering an antidote for a grievous condition, and all of the witnesses that were present respect it. I will be surprised if you, upon your return to your home, do not find at least one owl sitting at your window delivering a marketing proposal for when your product is ready. Really, Miss Granger, there is nothing to be ashamed of."

Her chastisement left Hermione feeling more ashamed than ever, but Hermione nodded and wiped away the tears that stained her cheeks.

"Now, Miss Granger, I must return to the castle. I have a detention to administer to a group of students this evening and I cannot be late. Especially since said students are being punished for tardiness to my class," Professor McGonagall gave a small smile, which Hermione returned. "I shall send an owl within the week, should you care to conduct any more research at Hogwarts. Good evening, Miss Granger."

"Good-bye, Professor McGonagall. Thank you."

Professor McGonagall nodded at Hermione and swept out of the chamber, leaving Hermione alone to gather her things. Hermione stood and picked up the two still-full bottles of potion as well as the discarded, empty bottle. With her wand and the bottles in hand, Hermione walked out of the court chamber, her head down.

Three hours later, Hermione was sitting at a corner booth in The Three Broomsticks. A large tankard of butterbeer sat on the table before her and beside it her three potion bottles and a piece of parchment covered in hastily written scribbles. Currently, Hermione was nursing her head in her hands, her quill in hand making light ink marks on her face.

"Hermione?"

Hermione peaked through her fingers and found Ginny standing before her, now in her Quidditch robes, holding her own, although smaller, tankard. Taking in Hermione's excessively frazzled hair and tired look, Ginny sat down on the seat across the table. "Oh, Hermione, what happened?"

Hermione shrugged and removed her hands from her face, tossing the quill onto the parchment filled with her notes. "I nearly killed my test subject."

Ginny gasped and her hand flew to her mouth. "Nearly killed…but I thought it was ready. It turned out just as you determined it would!"

Hermione glanced at the potion bottles and shook her head, "Doesn't mean that my determination was correct."

"What happened to the patient?"

"Well, the patient, who happened to be Lockhart, mind you, was taken back to St. Mungo's for post-traumatic observation or something. I honestly thought half the women in the courtroom were going to hex me." Hermione shook her head again, managing a smile.

"Lockhart, as in Gilderoy Lockhart, was the patient?!"

"The very same. And can you believe it was Professor McGonagall who escorted him to the trial. I don't think it was a coincidence. I think she wants him to have his memory back so she can formally charge him with all his crimes, up to that night in the Chamber of Secrets."

Ginny nodded in understanding, her eyes darkening over the unpleasant memories associated with her first year at Hogwarts.

"And, to top it off, my assistant, Harold, found me as I ran toward the courtroom and told me we lost a great deal of stock and supplies in an accident perpetrated by his own fiancée, our newest potioneer. I was going to let her go, this being her third offence, but I just couldn't face either of them after my own momentous failure." Ginny clucked her tongue in sympathy.

"So," Hermione continued, "I decided to come here, drown my pride in butterbeer and figure out where I went wrong."

Ginny sipped at her butterbeer thoughtfully. "And how is that coming along?"

"Horribly, actually. Which is why I'm still here, drowning my pride, butterbeer, and all that rut. How did you know I was here anyway?"

Ginny rummaged through a pocket and pulled out what looked like a galleon. Hermione, however, instantly recognized it as one of the charmed protean coins from her time at Hogwarts.

"You still carry your D. A. coin around?"

Ginny nodded, "Yep, and so do Neville and Luna. Neville was here in Hogsmeade chaperoning some students at the Gatwood Herbology Garden and saw you come in here looking really upset. He wasn't able to leave the students, so he sent me a message through the coin. I don't have practice with the Harpies for another hour, so I thought I'd come and see what was wrong."

"Huh. Well, thanks Neville, I guess. I really ought to start carrying my own D. A. coin around again. I suppose it'd be useful, especially when you can't apparate and sending an owl would take too long."

"Yeah, it's kind of like those muggle talking things. You know that thing they use to call people on the go. Mum told me that Dad has collected at least six or seven by now and is thinking of petitioning the Ministry to use them." Ginny shook her head and laughed. "He says they even have the ability to send something he called "an instant owl" or something." Hermione joined Ginny in laughing. "Anyway, I also came by because I wanted to share some news."

Hermione's eyes widened and her eyes flitted to Ginny's left hand. Ginny laughed.

"No, no marriage proposal yet. I suppose he's waiting until he makes Head of the Auror department first. But I do actually have some big news."

"Um, okay. What's up? Is everything okay?" Hermione stole a surreptitious glance at Ginny's stomach, but, as usual, it was flat from her almost-daily training with the Harpies.

"Yeah, actually, this morning at our lunch date, Harry asked me to move in with him. Now that Ron has moved in with Parvati, Harry wants me to come and live with him."

"Oh, Ginny, that's great! When are you planning on moving in? I mean, obviously it won't be for a couple of weeks, but do you have an idea when it will happen? I mean, it'll take some time for me to find another flatmate, but a month or two should be more than enough time."

Ginny frowned guiltily, looking into the depths of her tankard. "Actually Hermione…Harry's over at our flat right now…packing my things. We had hoped I'd be completely moved in by this week-end."

Hermione wilted slightly, before forcing an excited smile onto her face. "Oh, Ginny, that's brilliant! Really, it is! I'm truly happy for you! I'll make something nice for supper to celebrate! And since I suppose that I owe Ron an apology, we can invite him and Parvati as well!"

"You sure, Hermione? You're not cross? I mean, it is a bit short notice…"

"Of course I'm not cross! Why should I be upset that you and Harry are moving in together! I am happy that you both have such a successful relationship! I'm more concerned about Ron's reaction to the news."

Ginny laughed loudly, taking a sip of her butterbeer. "I know what you mean. I think he still hopes that Harry and I have never done anything more than snog."

Hermione burst into giggles. "Well, he obviously spent more time at Parvati's and less time at the flat, then."

Ginny's ears turned scarlet and she finished the last of her butterbeer before standing.

"I best be off, Hermione. See you later?"

Hermione stared up at her grinning friend and returned a smile. "'Course. I'll try and have supper ready before midnight."

Ginny laughed again, setting down a galleon and a few sickles on the bar before walking out of The Three Broomsticks toward the Hogsmeade apparation point.

Hermione sat a few more moments, emptying her tankard and perusing her notes, wondering where her potion had gone wrong.

Madame Rosmerta, The Three Broomsticks barmaid, walked over and picked up Ginny's money. "Knut for your thoughts, Miss Granger?"

"Just a few potions problems, Madame Rosmerta, as ever." Hermione gave her a wane smile and reached into her pocket for a few galleons. Madame Rosmerta picked up the tankard, and smiled. "No charge, Hermione. Your bill is already taken care of."

Hermione frowned. "You didn't have to do th-"

The barmaid held up her hand, silencing Hermione. "I didn't." Pointing toward the other end of the room, she continued. "He did."

Hermione frowned, looking in the direction Madame Rosmerta pointed. Confusion clouded her looks and disgust laced the question that followed.

"Malfoy?"

Draco Malfoy sat at a table in the corner of the room, his tie hanging loose and his jacket draped over the chair next to him. He took a sip from his own glass, firewhiskey, Hermione guessed, and smirked.

"What, no words of gratitude?"

"I don't need your help or your pity. I can afford my own Butterbeer, thanks."

"I don't doubt that you can."

Hermione eyed the tankard in Madame Rosmerta's grasp with suspicion.

"No, Granger, I didn't have you poisoned. You seem quite capable of that all on your own."

Hermione glared at Draco, opening her mouth to retort before she shook her head, thinking better of it. "You're incorrigible" she muttered, turning toward the door to leave.

"Granger, you're being quite rude. I buy your drink and you don't even express gratitude or hear me out."

"Trust me, Malfoy, I've heard enough" Hermione spat over her shoulder.

"I've got a business proposition."

"I'm definitely not interested in any sort of business you have in mind"

"Does that mean your potion is no longer on the market?"

Hermione stopped short, turning on her heel. "What are you talking about? My potion was a failure. You were there, you saw. I nearly killed a man."

Draco chuckled quietly, taking a sip of his firewhiskey, before leaning back in his chair, propping his feet on the table. "I don't think Gilderoy Lockhart really counts as a man."

A traitorous smile pulled at Hermione's lips, but she managed to keep her features stern. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

"Like I said, 'I've got a business proposition.'"

She looked at him expectantly.

"As you may know, Granger, I have a very lucrative marketing business. I, and my lawyer Theodore Nott, think that it could be a good investment for all involved if my company were to purchase your potion,"

"I'm sorry, but are you thicker than I thought? The potion failed! It didn't work!" She made to leave again, shaking her head in frustration.

"I'm quite aware, Granger, but I am also aware that you are a smart witch."

Hermione blinked in surprise. Did Malfoy just pay her a compliment?

"That said, you and I were the best in Potions. I'm sure, between the two of us, we can figure out how to get that potion to work."

Hermione's mouth hung open in shock. "You're offering to help me?"

He smirked again. "That's right. This potion, when perfected, as it only can be with my help, will be a top seller. Why shouldn't I help you?"

Hermione scoffed, rolling her eyes in derision. "Of course. This is only for the money. I should have known."

"Either way, _Hermione_, wouldn't you like to know that your potion could one day help someone, not just poison people."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully.

"Then we have a deal?" Malfoy clasped his hands behind his head, grinning as if he had ensured the ending of world suffering.

"One condition."

He rolled his eyes and sighed, almost as if he had expected such a reply.

"What, Granger?"

"You aren't my boss. As far as this deal goes…we're partners. That's it." Hermione grimaced at the word. "As such, I still get to call you Malfoy."

"No worries, Granger. Wouldn't want anyone to think we were friends." He stood and held out his hand and gave Hermione a firm handshake.

Moments later, Hermione emerged onto the still-bustling street, feeling as though she had just made a deal with the devil.

**Let me know what you think! I'm excited to finally be moving ahead with this project. I will try to post again as soon as possible. I want to get a few more chapters written up before I post again. Because I work five days a week and go to university the other two, I have to actually assign "me time" to write, so I plan on implementing this soon. Hope you enjoyed this chapter! As always, your feedback is important and I appreciate any form of CONSTRUCTIVE criticism! **

**Cheers!**


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